Tony lived a pretty average life for most of his years. Making it mostly though high-school without too many issues, besides a couple violent incidents involving other students that lead to him being diagnosed with anger issues . It quickly had him placed under therapy for the last two years of highschool, but after that things went smoothly. Tony didn't really want to fight people, he didn't really want anything. He just never cared much for people, they were fine, and existed. Never growing to fond of anyone he had 'friends' but not that he really cared much for them. People weren't even people, just moving objects, moving around all the time. Violence seemed to solved this, sometime. violence made things feel 'real' again, it let him know that he was still there, making some kind of difference in the world while things moved around him. Therefore he always found himself eager to get into fights and or watch things that spilled blood. Not that he ever explained it to anyone, why would he?
After graduation, his therapist figured it would be good for him to get out of the city and the desert, take a life in the country for a little bit. Taking a month vacation into chernarous he planned to become a roommate with some other tourists in a small town that was willing to keep them for a bit. Of course things went bad and he found himslef quite the bit stuck, a bit frustrated he was there.

*Dente has had quite the busy day, hearimg one of his now multiple's dead pals radios buzz to life around his belt he stopped his digging in pustocha and responded*
"Uhh.. Good evening?"
*He huffed betwen large breaths of exhaustion*
"Dunno who the fuck you are but uh.. My boss shot himslef or something.. "
*He sighed, mumbling to himslef and looking off across the graveyard while spoke*
"..Were going to 'takistand' they said.. Ditchin Dente to fucking rot.. Lucky assholes.."
*He cuts out soon after, only to go back to digging graves*